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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25499803">Hate Date</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMalapert/pseuds/TheMalapert'>TheMalapert</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fake Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jaskier is a Bitch, Multi, OT3, Poly Relationships, Savage Yennefer, Thruple, and they love him, into a REAL relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:15:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,514</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25499803</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMalapert/pseuds/TheMalapert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaskier needs a hot date to shove in Valdo Marx’s face, and who better than to fill the slot than his long time roomie, Geralt? It’s just a ruse, of course.</p>
<p>And then Yennefer shows up.</p>
<p>Looking, frankly, amazing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>488</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hate Date</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jaskier was in a bind. His yearly meet up with his ultimate rival was drawing close. They got coffee, sniped over small talk, and then they parted ways to definitely not keep tabs on each other as insult fodder for the next year. The most important part of the meetup was arguably the arm candy. Last year, Jaskier bribed Priscilla with free scones and cupcakes, and she brought out all the stops. She blew Valdo’s boyband guitarist out of the water. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tragically, she was playing a gig in Dallas, opening for an indie band. It was great for her but left Jaskier scrambling. Pavetta - well - he just didn’t know if she had the acting ability to pull off making doe eyes at anyone but Duny. And not to knock Duny, but he wasn’t the kind of mouthwatering Jaskier was going for. His beauty was in the absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>glow</span>
  </em>
  <span> of adoration he had around his wife. He considered asking Triss for a brief moment before remembering she was doing research overseas for another month. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In walked his saving grace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mouthwatering? Check.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beautiful? Double check.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier sat down the glass he’d been polishing for the last twenty minutes and vaulted over the bar. Geralt scowled at him because the last time he’d done it, Jaskier had shattered a whole bottle of vodka onto a budding instagram influencer. Jaskier made sure to make it up to her - he would have no bad reviews of his favorite bar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wandering musician wasn’t exactly the most lucrative of fields, but Jaskier was nothing if not committed to his craft. It was a miracle that he’d become such good friends with Geralt. Every bar needed a hype man to work the crowds, the dance floor, and to occasionally play their new music. The bar Kaer Morhen had </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorely</span>
  </em>
  <span> needed the facelift Jaskier’s fresh personality provided. Before he got there, it was like they didn’t even want people to come!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a few strategically placed Instagram ads and a serious upgrade to the sound system, Kaer Morhen was all the underground rage - almost to the chagrin of the strange, jigsaw family that oversaw it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d actually only met Vesemir a handful of times. Both father figure and head honcho, Vesemir ran the daytime business. Paperwork and finances. All the boring and none of the excitement of owning a bar, in Jaskier’s opinion. He left his three sons to bartend and manage in the height of the night. In exchange for free rent on the apartment he shared with Geralt and drinks on the house, Jaskier became a professional schmoozer. He knew every trick in the book to keep the tabs open and the drinks flowing. And occasionally he was tasked with some opening and closing duties, as he was doing today. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Geralt, my friend!” Jaskier began, and Geralt leveled a suspicious glare at him. “Okay, I know the ‘f-word’ is sometimes a bit much for you. As your long time and bestest roommate, then, I have a small-ish favor to ask.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not a good roommate,” Geralt said, inspecting Jaskier’s setup job. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, the loud sex and music at all hours kind of proved Geralt’s point…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m in a terrible quagmire with my arch nemesis, the horrid Valdo Marx. Would you be so kind as to attend a brief coffee date with me tomorrow with his Royal Assness in attendance?” Jaskier batted his eyelashes which were still artificially lengthened from last night’s mascara. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The catch,” Geralt stated. He ran a cloth over the already clean counter and decided that Jaskier has done a decent job. Jaskier preened at the slight head nod, the soothing of the crease between Geralt’s brow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Valdo Marx may need to be under the impression that we’re lovers in the nighttime.” The look of confusion was adorable, so Jaskier decided to explain further, “That you’re my paramour, my muse.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought I was your muse,” Geralt pouted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sexually, darling.” Jaskier was lying like a liar because for all intents and purposes, Geralt </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>his sexual muse. He’d spent many nights </span>
  <em>
    <span>singing solo</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as it were, to the image of Geralt’s strong shoulders and his sexy, pullable hair. Unfortunately since the introduction of Geralt’s on-again-off-again girlfriend Yennefer, his fantasies also included a pair of smug, violet eyes and the finest breasts known to man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So it’s a date date,” Geralt clarified. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier waved his hand. “You’d only have to pretend for half an hour max. It’s just a petty little challenge between us, and I think I’ll win for all time if I bring </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Jaskier let his eyes trace down Geralt’s buff form.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I’m handsome.” Yennefer’s communication training was paying off, especially since Geralt actually said something </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice </span>
  </em>
  <span>about himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly, Geralt, you understand perfectly!” Jaskier chirped. “So I can count on you tomorrow at 2?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmm.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d been friends long enough that Jaskier knew that meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re certainly looking nice.” Yennefer lazed out on his bed, naked except for a complicated gothic necklace. Geralt had been slightly preoccupied to work the tiny clasp, and he liked the look. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve got a date.” Geralt fumbled with the tie for the third time and finally gave up, tossing it aside. Yennefer slunk off the bed, coming up to hug him from behind. Her hands smoothed over his stomach as he relaxed back into her embrace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know you could show off a little decolletage,” she suggested and popped the top two buttons. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not interested in the details?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hands crept down to tease his waistband. His breath hitched. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything I should worry about?” He could hear the smile in her voice, and she pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he admitted. It was a fake date anyways, right? Jaskier wouldn’t ever invite him on a </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>date. Jaskier would have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> real dates first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So your little songbird didn’t man up and try to take you from me?” Her nails, blunted by the crisp white dress shirt, dragged over his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yen,” Geralt whined, dragging his hands down her arms and dragging her hands away from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I apologize,” she said through tight lips. Geralt turned, holding her hands to his chest. He loved her eyes. How sincere they made her face. “I know you like him a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not the only one,” he grumbled, releasing her hands in favor of stomping to his nightstand. He snapped up the single hair tie he owned and roughly pulled back his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, I’m rather fond of him too. Happy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt showed her one of his rare smiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She flopped back onto the bed and twisted herself into the sheets. By the time Geralt wrangled every stray hair, she was just a pouting face in a white, rumpled mass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s actually a date with Jaskier,” Geralt said. “A fake date. He needs to impress an old rival or something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yennefer </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She tossed in the sheets, twisting them even further.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You -” She said breathlessly before collapsing into another round of giggles. “You’re like a bad Harlequin romance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt paused rolling up his sleeves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think that would work?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier sipped on his cinnamon mocha and made a face that vaguely said he was feeling positive towards the gruesomely detailed description of how Valdo and his date, Henry, met while performing Mahler together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just the </span>
  <em>
    <span>classic</span>
  </em>
  <span> orchestra-choir romance, right?” Valdo batted at Henry’s muscled and exposed arm. Jaskier had to give it to Henry. Not many people outside lesbian bars made Hawaiian shirts look good, but he somehow pulled it off. Jaskier sure would pull it off him. He had to fight not to ogle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feels just like uni,” Jaskier said with a smile that inched ever closer to a grimace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure your date is coming?” Valdo asked with a poorly concealed victory smirk. Jaskier pursed his lips. He should have left the park earlier, but he’d been in such a zone, practicing a new set, people started to drop bills onto his lute case. He should have gone back to the apartment before -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, babe, sorry I’m late.” Geralt’s trademark grumble seemed smoother today, like silk stretched over gravel. Jaskier moved over to make room in the booth, and he wasn’t expecting the kiss that descended on his cheek. He would later deny blushing just a little. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt looked to die for. No man had any right to make black jeans and a white button up look so good. And the way the buttons were undone? His sleeves rolled up? He topped the Sexy Charts, and Jaskier would let him top a few other things too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No trouble. I was just listening to how Valdo and Henry met,” Jaskier said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without acknowledging either man on the other side of the table, Geralt continued, “Roach got out again, and I had to hunt her down in Vesemir’s tomatoes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier snorted. “Does she look like a murderer?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last time Geralt’s dog had gotten loose, she’d chewed her way through half of Vesemir’s garden before they found her, muzzle dripping red. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m Valdo Marx,” Valdo cut in, reaching a ringed hand across the table. Geralt shook it with an unaffected air. Henry did not offer. When faced with Geralt’s supernaturally blank expression, Valdo sputtered, “You may have seen my name in the orchestra playbills. That is, if you attend the orchestra.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I only like Tchaikovsky,” Geralt said. He sat back, arms crossing tightly over his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He may look tough, but he’s a ballet man through and through,” Jaskier commented. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valdo’s mouth twisted, trying to form a backhanded insult when his date jumped in with - “So you have a roach problem?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt’s brows twitched together. “Roach is my dog.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pit bull?” Valdo asked, one eyebrow raised as he very obviously sized Geralt up. “Rottweiler?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s a yorkie.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s a stallion!” Jaskier proclaimed. “Born to run free!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well she can’t run free in the middle of the street,” Geralt said through his teeth. Jaskier didn’t even think about the ruse when he laid a hand on Geralt’s bicep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No ordinary man could tame such a dog, but luckily, you inspire a strong loyalty.” The usual </span>
  <em>
    <span>my friend</span>
  </em>
  <span> stuck in the back of his throat. He swallowed it and smiled at Henry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt eyed the hand on his arm and then, in an unexpected move, relaxed back to sling his arm over Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier milked it for all it was worth and snuggled in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any pets?” Jaskier asked, blinking in a way that could only be described as smug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, no. No time. Between rehearsals and the gym, I stay busy,” Henry replied with a boyish smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And me!” Valdo butted Henry’s shoulder with his own, leveling a hooded look at him. “We keep each other pretty busy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a shame. Pets really are a new dimension to life. I’m shit with animals myself, so I’m lucky that Geralt is a dog whisperer,” Jaskier said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dog whisperer may have been too far, but Valdo’s fury at being ignored was well worth a few embellishments.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wasn’t allowed to touch Roach for the first… what? Five years?” Jaskier pretended to bat his eyes at Geralt but only succeeded in fluttering his eyelashes on his throat. The arm slung around Jaskier’s neck suddenly had goosebumps. That was certainly new. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t stop you, sneaky fucker,” Geralt muttered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier felt a hand in his hair, and all bodily functions ceased. His breath hitched; his heart stopped as Geralt tilted Jaskier’s head back to glare at him with those burning golden eyes. Jaskier swallowed, more of a gulp really, and Geralt gave him one sharp tug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She almost got fat on all those treats you gave her,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Jaskier replied, regaining his composure. “A lady deserves to be treated.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And if he thought his day couldn’t get any better (worse?), Jaskier’s spine tingled when a smooth voice said—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s this lady I’m hearing about? Surely I don’t have anyone to worry about.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier was sure his heart was going to crawl out of his mouth when he turned to find Yennefer standing in the little hipster coffee shop looking like she’d walked straight off the runway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He always saw Yennefer in one of two states: utterly devastating in grayscale and gemstones. Or beautifully blissed out in one of Geralt’s shirts. Either way, he’d never known Yennefer to </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> be stunning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled like a viper and hip-checked Geralt until he moved over. It left Jaskier squished against the wall until Geralt yanked one of his knees, throwing Jaskier’s leg over his lap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier bit the inside of his lip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yennefer of Vengerberg,” Yen introduced and held out her hand to Henry. “You must be Valdo Marx. Jaskier never told us you were so handsome.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tossed a theatrically mischievous look at Jaskier who was working on not bursting into flames. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Henry, actually,” he said. He took her hand and </span>
  <em>
    <span>kissed </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. He looked like he immediately regretted it when Geralt hummed deep in his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yennefer took back her hand laughing and draped herself over Geralt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry, my loves. Where are my manners?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pressed a kiss to Geralt’s lips, and he responded hungrily, eyes slitting open to glare at Henry. When they broke, Jaskier was looking at her like she was the gallows. The edges of her eyes crinkled, wickedly, invitingly, with just a hint of </span>
  <em>
    <span>adoration</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweet ungodly tits</span>
  </em>
  <span> he had to be hallucinating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She leaned over Geralt’s bulk, falling, laughing, bracing both hands on Jaskier’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>thighs</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and she kissed him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier was always the opportunist. He dove into the kiss, feeling her lips curve sharply. She pulled back, pinning him with a dark, sultry look that he didn’t know what to do with because there was no way that Valdo Marx even saw it, unless she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>giving him that look, and then he </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t know what to do with it, and why was her </span>
  <em>
    <span>hand </span>
  </em>
  <span>still on his </span>
  <em>
    <span>thigh?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m Valdo Marx,” the man said through grit teeth, and Yennefer flashed him a grin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You play second violin for the Oxenfurt Orchestra, don’t you? I was never a band geek myself, but second violin, that’s like you’re the first violin’s right hand man?” Yennefer stole Jaskier’s coffee and took a sip, letting the statement linger. “You must be important to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>second </span>
  </em>
  <span>violin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The emphasis was sending Jaskier over the moon. Valdo had always loved how Jaskier </span>
  <em>
    <span>opened</span>
  </em>
  <span> for artists, how he was like the </span>
  <em>
    <span>appetizer </span>
  </em>
  <span>for the main course. Yen’s thumb smoothed over the top of his thigh like an answer, a promise of more. Jaskier could feel his ears heating and prayed to any god that he wouldn’t go scarlet. He didn’t know what more he wanted — more of Yen verbally lashing his nemesis or more of her hand creeping up his thigh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why not both?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just wish Jaskier would play more small venues like you,” Yennefer said, and who would have thought Yennefer of Vengerberg could sound wistful. “I think sometimes his head is getting to big, but we bring him back to earth, don’t we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hand squeezed, and Jaskier had to bite off a choking noise. Geralt hummed his agreement and curled his arm around Jaskier’s neck. He pressed a kiss into the side of Jaskier’s head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier was in heaven, and he almost didn’t notice when Geralt slipped his phone out of his pocket. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where has Mr. Big Head been—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valdo’s poorly hidden snark was cut off by the shrill ring of Yen’s phone. Which she always kept on silent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Under the table, Jaskier spotted Geralt’s phone on a call with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yenna</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He bit his lip. They were too good for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello? Yes—what?” Yen’s face went white, her hand tightening on Jaskier’s thigh like it was real fear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gods above, she was meant to be a starlet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can be there right away.” She promptly hung up the phone and looked at the table with pursed lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That didn’t sound good,” Henry stated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yennefer shook her head, eyes glistening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Geralt…” She started gently. “It was the neighbor. She said she thought she saw Roach out again and that—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yen cut off with a twist to her lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Geralt was trying his best, but his anxiety was painfully fake to anyone who knew him. Jaskier was just trying to keep a straight face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A car, maybe,” was all Yen could muster before she lurched out of the booth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt followed like a white blur, but when Jaskier started to scoot out, Yen put up her hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She said, “We know how important it is for you to catch up with your college friends. We’ll go take care of this. Why don’t you stay and have a nice time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier put a furrow in his brow and folded her hands between his, delicately, lovingly. He stood, curled his shoulders so that they made the perfect picture of two young lovers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could never sit here and drink coffee while Roach is in trouble. Valdo will understand,” he said, and they turned to the sulking violinist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, go see to your </span>
  <em>
    <span>dog,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he spat with an extra coating of vitriol. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s right, you rat faced bastard. My dog is more important than you. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good luck!” Henry offered, and they hurried out of the shop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier kept himself together until they got to Geralt’s car. As he’d taken a lovely stroll to get here, there was nowhere else he’d rather break down into fits of giggles. Geralt hopped into the driver’s side and Yennefer squished beside Jaskier into the cab of the too-old-to-be-young pickup. Again, her hand landed on Jaskier’s thigh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yennefer, you are a goddess among mortals. You could make a living out of passive aggressive-ing people to death,” Jaskier said. “Tell me your heart’s desire, and I will enact all my power to see it done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she looked at him, every word of bravado shriveled in his throat. Her eyes, so clear and violet, held a girlish fragility he’d never seen. Longing and lust twined and pinned him, her hand blazing against his trousers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Consider this our first date, then,” she said, not softly but not in her usual snide command. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier tried to blink himself back to reality. No way was Yen asking to actually date him. Him! The loud, reckless, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span>, penniless musician that haunted her real love—Jaskier turned to Geralt, almost afraid of the face he would find. Humor? A joke? Was this a joke?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All he found was a soft smile, and Geralt’s hand left the wheel to take Jaskier’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And she did mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>our</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Geralt clarified, lifting Jaskier’s hand to his lips. He pressed a quick kiss onto three knuckles though his eyes never left the road. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This could not be happening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?” Yennefer snapped, answering a statement Jaskier wasn’t aware he’d said aloud. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You barely even like me!” Jaskier cast frantic glances between the two because honestly, was he supposed to believe the two people he annoyed most in the world were saying they wanted to do some semblance of </span>
  <em>
    <span>keeping </span>
  </em>
  <span>him? Geralt threatened time evict him once a week!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sure, they spent, arguably, most of their free time together. Yen liked to go clubbing with him, and Geralt was always there when he played Kaer Morhen, even on his nights off. They’d all fallen into a rhythm of movie nights on weekends and brunches where Jaskier and Yen drank all the mimosas and if they ended up all on the same couch when the credits rolled, Jaskier was a tactile person and didn’t think much of it. Except that he wasn’t always on the edge like a good third wheel should be. Sometimes, his favorite times, Geralt would lean against one side and Yen would rest her head in his lap, and he’d be allowed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>touch </span>
  </em>
  <span>both of them, just barely. Just a hand resting on Yennefer’s shoulder because where else would he put it and an arm hooked under Geralt’s because that was obviously more comfortable—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jaskier exhaled. His body went limp, head lolling back against the seat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You getting it now?” Yennefer asked, previous irritation leashed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want to date me? Both of you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt like years before Yennefer’s lips shaped out, “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier turned wide, trusting eyes on Geralt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” he said, and that meant </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier’s heart did a couple flips and an aerial just to be showy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I’d like that,” he said, unable to contain the overwhelming smile that split his face. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Later, after the coffee shop had closed up, after Henry had been sent on his way, Valdo Marx received a text from a phone number he refused to save but nonetheless recognized. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was of Yennefer struggling to hold a tiny yorkie, a blur of half of Geralt’s face, and perfectly in focus, Jaskier smiling with a thumbs up. Two mismatched hickeys discolored either side of Jaskier’s neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The caption read: </span>
  <em>
    <span>just in case you were worried!</span>
  </em>
</p>
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